


Up Is Down

by silver_etoile



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bets & Wagers, Kissing, M/M, So much kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 04:30:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12028146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_etoile/pseuds/silver_etoile
Summary: “I mean, you are such a terrible kisser,” Arthur says with a tilt to his head and a slight curve to his lips. “I feel like I should help you.”“How generous of you,” Merlin mutters with a scowl.





	Up Is Down

Merlin has been the butt of many a joke in his brief span on this earth. The worst, perhaps, is right now, surrounded by half the footie team as they stand on the field, rain clouds gathering above them. He blames Gwaine for the fact that he’s out there right now, that he listened to his idiotic friend, trusted him, even. When he’d asked him to meet him after practice, Merlin hadn’t expected to be greeted by a bunch of football blokes, Arthur included.

“Come on, Arthur,” one of the guys sneers from behind Merlin, and Merlin glares at Gwaine.

Gwaine at least has the good grace to shrug apologetically, making a gesture like, _this isn’t my fault_. It’s totally his fault, though. Everything always is. Merlin can’t, for the life of him, remember why they’re friends in this moment. Friends don’t trick friends. Friends don’t include friends in bets they’re not a part of.

“I did not agree to this,” Merlin says, casting his glare over the guys goading Arthur. Even Arthur doesn’t seem his usual prattish self, rolling his eyes at his friends but not quite arguing with them. He doesn’t quite _do_ anything to help the situation or stop it. Not that Merlin would expect him to. Arthur, as far as he knows, doesn’t care about people like Merlin or how they feel. Arthur is a rugged, posh, rich, star athlete and everyone seems to think he can do no wrong.

“Arthur lost the bet fair and square,” Valiant says, like he finds all this amusing. “This is the consequences.”

Merlin is torn between insulted and a sinking feeling that always comes with being singled out for jokes. He casts a glance at Arthur, who so far hasn’t said anything. Arthur doesn’t look at him, running a hand through his hair, so Merlin turns to Gwaine, who at least looks somewhat guilty.

“Fuck you, Gwaine,” he says, turning to stalk away from this whole situation, but Valiant catches his arm, dragging him round to face Arthur, as though he doesn’t have a choice in this bet, in this thing he’s not involved in at all.

“Like you don’t want to,” Valiant sneers, shoving Merlin forward. Merlin stumbles a few steps closer to Arthur.

He wishes Arthur would look at him, at least acknowledge that this is insane, but Arthur has never looked at him before. He’s never talked to him before except in forced group projects.

“I’m not kissing him,” Merlin says bluntly, crossing his arms resolutely and wishing he were wearing something other than his thin uniform jacket as a chill breeze kicks up behind him.

It’s not that Merlin would actually say no to kissing Arthur if the situation were different, if maybe Arthur had talked to him, if they weren’t standing in front of practically the whole footie team, if this wasn’t meant as humiliation, a punishment for losing some stupid bet.

Humiliating to Arthur, who wouldn’t be caught dead kissing a bloke, let alone someone like Merlin. Merlin’s just the punchline here, and it fills him with dread.

“We’re not leaving here until we see some tongue,” Valiant says with a huffed out laugh that makes Merlin’s stomach go cold.

“Maybe we could just have Arthur do something else,” Gwaine says, and though Merlin knows he’s trying to help, he’s too pissed off at Gwaine to appreciate it. “Like hit on Kilgharrah’s secretary. She’s ancient.”

“Not nearly embarrassing enough,” Valiant dismisses him easily. “Pendragon agreed.”

“I didn’t agree,” Merlin says loudly, but Valiant shoves him forward again. Merlin stumbles and glares back at him.

“Irrelevant,” he replies. “Now get on with it. We don’t have all day.”

Merlin swallows, a thick lump in his throat as he glances around, but no one’s going to help him. No one’s going to stop this.

A drop of rain hits him on the beck of his neck, icy and sharp.

“Fine, fine, fine,” Arthur says at length, shoving his hair aside and shucking off his jacket to the whistles of the guys. It slumps onto the grass, and Merlin wonders what he’s done in his life to deserve such a fate. Why does everyone hate him so much? Just because he’s gay? Just because he’s out? He deserves to be humiliated? To be used as humiliation for other people?

Arthur doesn’t look nervous, looks almost composed, like this is all a joke somehow. Merlin doesn’t see any humor in it.

Merlin’s hands are shaking as Arthur steps forward, his heart pounding a mile a minute, pressed against his Adam’s apple. Arthur still hasn’t met his gaze, laughing at something one of the guys says, giving him a shove before turning to Merlin.

Casting his eyes to the ground, Merlin winces as more drops of rain hit his neck, cold and wet as they slide under the collar of his jacket. This is his life. Sixteen years old and about to get his first kiss from a guy being forced to do it.

It makes his heart pound, not out of nerves but out of sheer disappointment. This isn’t how he wanted his first kiss to go.

“Thirty seconds,” Valiant says, taking out his phone and checking the time.

Merlin closes his eyes, hands curled into fists, his fingernails digging into his palms as he braces himself for what’s to come.

He jerks when he feels Arthur’s hands on either side of his neck. The responding jeers from the crowd send a shiver of nausea through his stomach and he squeezes his eyes shut tighter. It’ll be over soon.

“Whenever you’re ready, princess,” he hears Valiant say, and he swallows hard at Arthur’s thumb brushing over his skin, the soft patch of skin just below his ear.

Merlin has never kissed anyone, but he still expects it to be better than when Arthur’s lips press to his, dry and sort of chapped. He doesn’t respond at all, like he knows a kiss is supposed to go. He just stands there, hands at his sides, praying for it to end. He’s not counting the seconds, but they seem to stretch forever.

“I don’t see any tongue,” Valiant says, and Merlin could just die. Right there. Just keel over and be dead.

Merlin has seen kisses, in movies, couples draped over the lawn, pecks goodbye. This is nothing like any of those. As much as he might have liked Arthur to be his first kiss, in another universe, one where Arthur actually knew who he was aside from the weird kid Gwaine hung around with, he never wanted it to be like this.

Arthur’s lips pulls back for half a second and Merlin thinks maybe, maybe it’s over, but then he feels something wet, Arthur’s tongue, sliding along his bottom lip, and he jerks back, the momentary flash of relief gone, replaced with shaking anger, humiliation creeping into the flush on his cheeks.

“Fuck you,” he spits as he stumbles back from Arthur, out of his grip. “Fuck all of you.”

“That wasn’t thirty seconds,” Valiant says, but Merlin shoves his way out of the circle and strides across the field, shouldering his back against the rain now driving down.

“Merlin!” Gwaine calls after him but Merlin doesn’t turn back. He just has to get out of there, to disappear, to escape, to pretend the feelings welling up inside him don’t make him feel sick.

Merlin doesn’t want to go home, though. His mom will be home and he’ll have to explain why he’s soaking wet, why he feels like shutting himself up in his room and blasting Linkin Park until he’s ruined his hearing.

His hair is plastered to his forehead from the rain and he can feel the cold seeping into his jacket as he rounds the school, far from the field. He isn’t surprised to find himself at the door to the chemistry lab. It’s one of the few places in school he actually feels normal, like he doesn’t have to pretend he’s not smart, that he doesn’t like school (well, the school part, not the people part. The people suck, as evidenced by what happened five minutes ago).

The door isn’t locked which means Professor Gaius is probably still around somewhere. Rain patters the window as Merlin drags himself in and sinks onto one of the stools.

Sitting there, Merlin wants to cry. He wants to cry and scream and somehow get back at Valiant, Arthur, Gwaine, all of them. He never will, though. He has no means to get back at them.

Instead, he’ll resign himself to the fact that he’ll always be the weird gay kid until he gets out of secondary. Then maybe he can be normal, or as normal as he can get.

He supposes he should expect things like this from Valiant, who’s always been an asshole, but Gwaine is his friend. Or he was supposed to be.

And Arthur. Well, Merlin doesn’t know what Arthur is. He’s not totally sure Arthur knew who he was before today.

Burying his face in his hands, Merlin sighs. It’s been a terrible day. 

At the squeak of the door opening, Merlin’s head shoots up. What more torture could this day have in store for him?

If anything, he doesn't expect to see Arthur standing in the doorway to the classroom, just as soaked as Merlin.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks with as much disdain as he can muster.

Arthur steps inside, letting the door slam shut behind him. Glass vials rattle on the shelves in the cupboard. 

“If you’ve come to humiliate me even more, I’ll save you the trouble,” Merlin says, sliding off his stool and grabbing his bag from the floor.

“I didn’t want to do it,” Arthur says, and it might be an apology or it might be an excuse.

“That much was obvious,” he says sharply.

“Wait,” Arthur says as Merlin tries to move past him. He pushes him back with a hand on his chest. Merlin stops short, a flash of apprehension at the gesture.

Jesus, what now? What more could Arthur want from him?

“You’re not a great kisser,” Arthur says, and Merlin frowns.

“Thanks,” he says, deadpan. That’s exactly what he wants to hear right now. It’s not as if he was _trying_ to kiss Arthur. He hadn’t asked to be a part of any of this.

Arthur runs his tongue over his lower lip, almost like he’s thinking what to say. Merlin doesn’t really care what he has to say. It won’t change what just happened. His reputation has just been cemented, as an idiot, as a punchline.

“Was that your first kiss?” Arthur asks and Merlin’s stomach bottoms out, a pit of dread forming where it once was.

“I have to get home,” he says because he doesn’t know what to say, how to refute it since it’s true. It’s embarrassingly true and now Arthur knows. Arthur, the bloke Merlin has always secretly enjoyed looking at, secretly fantasized about kissing even though the reality of that situation was far from possible.

“It’s okay,” Arthur says, getting between Merlin and the door, and Merlin just wants to get out of there, away from all this.

Grimacing, he takes a step away from Arthur, pushing his hand into his still-wet hair, mussing it up in that annoying way his mom hates.

“It’s not okay,” he says finally, dropping his bag again and slumping back against the tall tables of the lab. “That’s not how I wanted my first kiss to go.”

To his surprise, Arthur actually nods. “I can see that.”

“What, you wouldn’t want yours to be in front of a bunch of people who hate you?”

“They don’t hate you,” Arthur says, but Merlin scoffs.

“Sure, they don’t.” He’s been at this school long enough to know when people don’t like him, and Valiant sure as hell doesn’t like him.

“Most of them don’t even know who you are.”

“Is that supposed to be comforting?” Merlin asks with a curl to his lips. He supposes it should be. In some twisted sort of way.

Arthur shrugs. “I don’t know. I think it might be nice if everybody didn’t know me.”

“Trust me, it’s not,” Merlin assures him. Kicking the floor, he rubs out a streak with his toe, frowning and glancing at Arthur finally.

Arthur’s tie is loose, shirt unbuttoned a few buttons like he hadn’t bothered to put it all back together after practice. He holds his jacket loosely in his hand, swinging it slightly as the silence stretched between them. Merlin still isn’t sure what’s going on.

“Why are you here?” he asks at length. No one sticks around the chemistry classrooms except for him.

Arthur hesitates for a second before tossing his jacket on the table. “I… felt bad.”

Merlin stares. “You? You felt… bad?” he repeats, like the concept is foreign to him. And it might as well be. Arthur Pendragon is the most popular bloke in school and Merlin has never seen him show anything close to a conscience before. But then, he also doesn’t hang around Arthur all the time either.

“I mean, you are such a terrible kisser,” Arthur says with a tilt to his head and a slight curve to his lips. “I feel like I should help you.”

“How generous of you,” Merlin mutters with a scowl. “First I get to be humiliated in front of the footie team, then in front of you.”

Arthur shakes his head. “I’m offering you valuable advice,” he says, taking a step forward.

“Kissing advice?” This is insane. Merlin is going insane.

“Hey, if you don’t want help,” Arthur says, and Merlin can’t help staring at him. He’s not completely sure what’s going on here. Why Arthur would want to ‘help’ him. “Trust me, you could use it.”

Merlin glares. “I wasn’t _trying_ to kiss you, you know. I was being forced to kiss you. I know how to kiss.”

Arthur nods slowly then spreads his arms. “Then prove it.”

This is not actually happening, Merlin thinks as Arthur stands there. He’s not actually doing what Merlin thinks he’s doing… is he?

This is ridiculous, Merlin finds himself thinking as the nerves well up inside him, and something tells him to just fucking do it. Just prove Arthur wrong. Arthur always has to be right about everything, but Merlin’s not an idiot. He does know some things, and just because he was pulled into whatever stupid bet Arthur made, doesn’t mean he’s completely inept at life.

Merlin lurches forward, a little less graceful than he might have liked, and his hands are on either side of Arthur’s neck as he kisses him, hard, all teeth and too much tongue, and it’s messy and wet and. Fuck, he actually hasn’t done this and he really doesn’t know what he’s doing, and he honestly isn’t all that surprised when Arthur pries him away after a second.

“That’s a little aggressive,” Arthur says, pulling Merlin’s hands from his neck, and Merlin feels a rush of embarrassment curling deep in his chest. He doesn’t meet Arthur’s eyes as he steps back, ready to retreat and pretend this never happened, but Arthur’s hand on his jacket stops him from going too far. “Just take a breath,” he says simply, stepping up to Merlin.

Merlin lets out a breath, nervous again with Arthur so close, close enough to see the brush of his eyelashes when he blinks, the fading pink on his lips. It isn’t like before, out on the field, with unfriendly eyes pressing in around them. It’s just them in here.

“Who do you want to kiss?” Arthur asks as they stand there and Merlin’s eyes dart to his.

“What?”

“You’re sixteen. You must want to kiss somebody,” Arthur says. “Is it a bloke? A girl?”

Merlin’s eyebrows furrow and he doesn’t know how to answer that. His skin tingles where Arthur tugs him in closer, slides a hand to his hip, warmth burning through the fabric, and Merlin isn’t sure he can actually form words. “What does that matter?” he gets out finally.

“Gotta know the target audience,” Arthur says like he does this all the time. Merlin doesn’t know how many occasions someone has to teach people how to kiss.

“I guess if I was going to, it would be a guy,” Merlin mutters because, hell, everyone knows he’s gay. Why hide it now?

“Simpler,” Arthur comments, and Merlin opens his mouth to ask how it’s any simpler, but then Arthur’s hands are on his neck again. 

It’s like before but completely different. He’s not shaking out of fear this time. There’s still a shiver of unease that runs through him as Arthur steps up to him, their chests nearly touching. He swallows down the nerves lodged in his throat.

“In kissing, everything’s important,” Arthur says, eyes darting over Merlin’s face, and Merlin’s acutely aware that he’s not as good looking as some people. He has huge ears, a long face, and his hair never does what he wants it to. “Hands, mouths.” Arthur leans in slowly, agonizingly slowly, to press his lips to Merlin’s cheek, dragging his lips over his skin as he moves to the other side, the corner of his mouth.

Merlin’s heart pounds in his chest at the light touches, soft and almost careful. He’s still not sure this is actually happening, that he’s letting it happen.

Arthur’s thumb brushes over that spot on Merlin’s neck again, just below his ear, and he lets out a shaky breath. He can feel Arthur pause and he opens his eyes to find Arthur watching him.

He’s going to ask what but Arthur leans in and presses their lips together, soft and slow, a light pressure against Merlin’s bottom lip, just enough that Merlin responds for the first time, presses back. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but Arthur doesn’t correct him, and he’s still stroking that patch of skin that makes Merlin’s knees go weak.

Merlin doesn’t know what to do with his hands as he stands there, almost like a statue, but Arthur pulls back from the kiss, his hands abandoning Merlin’s neck to pull Merlin’s hands to his waist.

“Hands are important,” Arthur murmurs as he leans into Merlin’s mouth again.

Merlin’s fingers curl into Arthur’s crisp white shirt as Arthur’s tongue slides along his bottom lip, tracing the dip in the middle. He’s never had anyone else’s tongue in his mouth, and even though he’s imagined this moment a thousand times, he never thought it would actually happen, not with Arthur, not in an empty classroom, the sky dark with rain out the window. Not after being forced to kiss him by Valiant.

“Remember to breathe,” Arthur tells him, words mumbled against his skin as their mouths connect for real this time, Merlin’s parted slightly, feeling the press of Arthur’s tongue, the pressure of their lips, a thrill of excitement and apprehension running through his stomach.

The lights overhead are almost unbearably bright for the moment, and Merlin wishes it was darker so Arthur wouldn’t see the way he flushes when Arthur kisses him deeper, licks into his mouth this time, sucks on his tongue, nudges him into it with a hand on the back of his neck.

Merlin hears the whimper before he can stop it, barely an exhale against Arthur’s mouth. Embarrassed, he pulls back abruptly from Arthur, feeling the rush of blood all the way to the tips of his ears. His hands are still anchored in Arthur’s shirt, like he doesn’t remember he can move them.

“It’s okay,” Arthur says, and even he sounds a little breathless, which surprises Merlin. Arthur’s lips are pinker, darker, the lines softened as he leans in again and their noses bump, accidentally, but Merlin sucks in a breath. “Noises are good.”

Merlin doesn’t get a chance to overthink it with Arthur’s mouth slotted against his, the kiss a little deeper, a little rougher this time, a little more tongue sliding into his mouth as Arthur kisses him.

It’s an impossible situation, unrealistic, but Arthur is here, and Merlin’s hands slide up his sides, under his rib cage. He presses his hand to Arthur’s skin, warm even through the fabric, and Merlin feels like his own skin is on fire.

A brief, sharp nip brings Merlin’s mind from the feel of Arthur’s skin back to his mouth.

“Biting?” he manages to ask between Arthur sucking on his bottom lip and sliding his tongue against his.

“Some people are into it,” Arthur replies, dragging his mouth along Merlin’s neck, a light pressure, and Merlin shivers at the touch. 

The fact that Merlin has never done this has no bearing on the fact that his knees wobble a little as Arthur mouths down his jaw, tonguing over his skin, smooth and sweet. He doesn’t even think about the possibility of a mark as he reaches for Arthur, actually pulls him in closer.

It has to be the most surreal situation of his life, Merlin thinks as Arthur slots their tongues together and Merlin almost breathes into his kiss, wanting more, needing _more_.

Merlin’s whole body responds to Arthur, almost as if he’s not controlling it anymore, falling into the kisses, a little wetter now, a little harder, teeth scraping against skin as Merlin shivers and he slides his hand into Arthur’s hair. It’s soft and still slightly damp from the rain.

Arthur lets out a breath, almost a noise as Merlin’s fingers press to the back of his neck. Merlin doesn’t stop to think what that means, too wrapped up in Arthur’s mouth, his hands shoving his jacket over his shoulders, the ways they stumble back and then Merlin’s pressed against the table.

It’s unexpected, the way Arthur shoves him, a sharp nudge with his hands, against the table. It’s a high table, higher than normal desks, hitting the small of Merlin’s back as he stumbles against it, questions cutting through the fog of arousal in Merlin’s brain, past the tingle in his lips as he tries to jerk back, to get a better look at Arthur before him, to get his bearings back, clear thoughts on what the fuck is actually going on.

“What are you—?” he tries to ask, licking his lips carefully as Arthur steps up to him.

“Leverage,” Arthur says, and his hands aren’t on Merlin’s neck anymore. Now they’re resting on his thighs, palms burning through the fabric, and Merlin can’t remember how to breathe normally as all the blood in his body rushes to the surface of his skin and everything is too hot. It doesn’t make any sense. None of this.

Arthur leans in, almost tortuously slowly, his breath warm against Merlin’s cheek, and Merlin takes a shaky breath, closing his eyes. There’s a nuzzle, Arthur’s nose against his cheek, half a second, something deep inside Merlin tugging at him, both desire and confusion.

Arthur hesitates, fingers pressing to Merlin’s thighs, almost like he’s holding him in place, holding him down. Merlin swallows as Arthur’s mouth brushes over his jaw, pressing kisses up, his tongue sliding over Merlin’s skin, up to his ear, pausing to suck on that spot that makes Merlin forget everything, his body going weak, slumping against the table.

“Oh, Jesus,” he breathes, forcing his eyes open as he reaches for Arthur’s neck, fingernails digging into the skin. If Arthur keeps doing that, Merlin’s going to collapse, and it’s not going to be pretty or graceful.

“Everybody has one,” Arthur says, and he sounds so goddamn smug that Merlin can’t help pulling his mouth around and kissing _him_ for once.

He wants to be in control here, just so Arthur isn’t such as asshole, isn’t the one who started this, isn’t the one who offered fucking _kissing lessons_. Merlin wasn’t that bad of a kisser.

Merlin just doesn’t care anymore, doesn’t care that this is Arthur, that not twenty minutes ago he was standing on the football field, scared to death, forced to kiss him. Now, it’s Arthur who’s here, tongue sliding over the roof of his mouth, rolling his bottom lip in his mouth, hands grabbing for Merlin’s waist, dragging him forward until their bodies are pressed together and all Merlin can feel is the heat between them.

“This is insane,” he pants because he can’t think of anything else, can’t think of anything beyond the way Arthur’s hands bunch up his shirt, pawing at the hem, yanking it untucked until Arthur can get his hands against his skin. He can’t think of anything but the firm press of Arthur’s mouth against his, the almost desperate way Arthur kisses him now and Merlin returns it. He’s never done anything like this, never felt like he needs Arthur to keep touching him, to keep kissing him, the drag their mouths together, wet and hard and desperate between panted breaths,

“Insane,” Arthur agrees but he doesn’t stop kissing Merlin, fingers splayed over his back, warm but strong, keeping Merlin pressed against him, like he would go anywhere else.

Merlin’s head spins dizzily, like all the blood has rushed to his dick and there’s none left to think with. His cheeks are flushed and his lips tingle when Arthur pulls back for half a second, sore and red, but he never wants to stop doing this, to stop Arthur’s body tight against his, Arthur’s hands, calloused and rough, against his skin, a tiny jerk to his movements.

It isn’t until Arthur moves, though, until he shifts and slots in against Merlin completely, one leg between Merlin’s, that their predicament becomes obvious and Merlin gasps. He’s hard. Arthur’s hard. This is really happening.

“Wait,” he says, shoving at Arthur even though it’s the last thing he wants to do. Arthur goes, staring at Merlin, his hair mussed, lips red, a slight pant to his breath, his chest moving faster. Arthur’s eyes are on his mouth as he licks his lips. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” Arthur asks, and Merlin almost forgets what he’s saying as he feels Arthur move, just the tiniest of shifts with his hips and Merlin can only feel the heat in his cock, the desperate desire like he’s never felt before for anyone. Jerking off is all well and good but it’s nothing compared to someone else pressed against him.

“Why are you doing this?” Merlin forces himself to ask. He’d hate himself if he didn’t. If he just let it happen, if it’s all part of some bigger plan to humiliate him.

Arthur looks away from Merlin’s mouth finally, eyes flicking up, a deep blue that stares into Merlin’s eyes as he shakes his head. His hips still move, tiny movements that leave Merlin taking a shaky breath, willing himself to focus, to not get pulled into Arthur’s beautiful face, his perfect hands, fingertips hot against his skin.

“I know who you are, Merlin.”

Merlin frowns at that. “What does that mean?”

Arthur seems to gather himself slightly but he doesn’t pull away from Merlin. Not yet. “I made a bet with the guys knowing if I lost, I’d have to kiss you.”

“I got that.” Merlin had been there for that terrible part. He’s starting to feel a little stupid for being here, for letting Arthur lean into his jaw and press an unbearably soft kiss there. 

“The bet was that I couldn’t get Vivian to sleep with me.”

“Vivian sleeps with everyone,” Merlin says, frowning, pulling back so he can see Arthur. “How could you have lost that bet?”

Arthur shrugs, as though he’s trying to be nonchalant, but his eyes are on Merlin’s mouth again. “I never asked her.”

“You lost the bet on purpose,” Merlin says slowly as realization hits him. “Why would you do that?”

“I told you,” Arthur says, leaning into Merlin, and Merlin can feel the warmth of his breath against his skin. “I know who you are.”

Arthur kisses him, and somehow, it’s different than all the rest, softer, sweeter, lingering in a way the others haven’t been. Something tugs at Merlin’s heart, something beyond the nerves that have filled him up to this point, the unease.

“Who am I?” Merlin asks because he wants to be painfully clear on this, even as his hands slide back to Arthur’s neck and he palms the skin gently, reveling in the softness, the warmth Arthur gives off, the solidity of his body.

Arthur’s mouth grazes over his chin. “You’re Gwaine’s friend,” he murmurs, and his hand sneaks under Merlin’s shirt, coming to rest in the small of his back, and their hips are too close again. “You’re too smart for this shithole school.” He nuzzles Merlin’s cheek and Merlin shivers, almost ready to let himself give in to it. “You’re the guy who saved my ass in that chem project last year.”

“Last year?” Merlin remembers. He didn’t figure Arthur did. He remembers spending too much time thinking of Arthur’s jaw, considering the muscles in his arms, the rise of his chest when he breathed.

Arthur’s fingers slide up, grazing under Merlin’s rib cage, and fuck, Merlin’s still hard, still pressed against Arthur in a way he never thought he would be. It’s like a dream, a really realistic dream.

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed,” Arthur says, licking at Merlin’s earlobe and Merlin lets a noise slip, and he can feel his face going red. He never supposed Arthur actually knew who he was.

“This is…” Merlin says when Arthur pulls back, and even Arthur looks flushed, his perfect hair mussed, his lips red and swollen, debauched like Merlin has always imagined he might look except it’s a thousand times better in real life.

“Yeah,” Arthur agrees, but he smiles, the first time he’s smiled at Merlin for real. It does things to Merlin, his heart contracting, his stomach bouncing around in a completely undignified sort of way, nervous and excited and not sure what to do.

Merlin doesn’t really know what to say. This has never happened to him before. No one has ever liked him before. Everyone else he’s ever liked has been unrequited. Or rather, they weren’t gay and had no idea he liked them. He’s never had anyone look at him like Arthur’s looking at him right now, like he just wants to snog him senseless.

“Don’t be too mad at Gwaine,” Arthur says after a minute, smoothing down Merlin’s shirt. “He was just trying to help.”

Merlin isn’t concerned about Gwaine at the moment. He’d much rather have Arthur kissing him again, so that’s what he does—pulls Arthur in close and smiles against his lips as he kisses him.

“You’re a quick learner,” Arthur murmurs, drawing Merlin in by his neck.

“Like you said, I’m smart,” Merlin replies easily, swallowing Arthur’s laugh in the empty classroom. Arthur’s hands tighten on his waist, and Merlin sighs against him, letting himself enjoy the moment, enjoy Arthur’s mouth on his, the new rushed desperation as Arthur presses him against the table, their hips rubbing together. Merlin almost groans at the heat, the feeling of Arthur’s body, his dick hard in his trousers, too many layers of fabric separating them.

Merlin has never done this either, but he’s starting to think today could be a lot of firsts if Arthur’s willing. He certainly seems willing as he licks into Merlin’s mouth, angling his head to kiss deeper, their lips smacking apart, obscene, too loud in the silent classroom.

A door slamming in the distance breaks them apart abruptly, ruins the moment as Merlin’s heart jumps too.

“What was that?” Arthur asks, staring at the door, panting for breath, his cheeks flushed. He looks amazing, Merlin catches himself thinking, beautiful.

“Probably Gaius,” Merlin says, but he doesn’t want to be caught as much as Arthur doesn’t. “Maybe we should go.”

Arthur nods with a huff and grabs his jacket off the table as Merlin scoops his bag from the floor and they slip out the door.

It’s still raining out but it’s less of a depressing rain as Merlin pauses with Arthur just under the overhang. He should say something but he’s not sure what. He’s not sure where they go from here, if Merlin’s supposed to forget about the fact that not two minutes ago, he had Arthur’s hands under his jacket, Arthur’s tongue in his mouth. 

Arthur glances at him first, tugging on his jacket, look deliciously ruffled. “My dad’s out of town on business,” he says at length, and Merlin actually smiles to himself.

“Was that an invitation or did you lose another bet?”

Arthur brushes past Merlin, his shoulder grazing across Merlin’s chest as he passes. “It was an invitation, Merlin,” he says simply, grabbing the hem of Merlin’s jacket and tugging him after.

Merlin doesn’t even fight it this time. He doesn’t know quite what's going to happen at Arthur’s house, but at least the footie team won’t be there to see it, and this time, he knows how to kiss.

*

FIN.


End file.
